


Strong, Stalwart, Sense of Duty

by BlackKittens



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Duty, Family, Introspection, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackKittens/pseuds/BlackKittens
Summary: When she was a girl, Rhaella's grandfather once compared her to his father, the late King Maekar.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Strong, Stalwart, Sense of Duty

Every so often, time and time again, Rhaella recalled a brief conversation from her youth.

She had been a young girl of nine at the time, sitting on her grandfather the king's knee. Her face had been solemn, her shoulders straight, and hands clasped over her knees. Rhaella could no longer remember what they had been discussing beforehand, but she could remember the circumstances.

She had been told by someone, likely her mother, she felt, to do something she hadn't wanted to do. What it was, who could say now, but it was surely not simple or insignificant. Although little things could take on the appearance of much larger things in the eyes of a child, Rhaella knew it had been something of some importance. Perhaps she had had to take on as a lady-in-waiting an important lord's daughter whom she hadn't liked, or accompany her mother or grandmother on some important progress that would take her far from her friends for a long time. Who could say now.

Whatever the case, she had finally resigned herself to it out of a sense of duty. She was a princess; the only granddaughter of the king, the daughter of the Prince of Dragonstone, and the sister of a future king. Despite her young age, Rhaella had known how important her House's image and duties to the realm were in order to keep the peace, so she had huffed, sighed, and resigned herself to her fate. She had wanted to resign herself with grace, however, because she was a princess, not a stuffy child. So she had picked her chin up and escorted herself to her grandfather's solar to tell him of her acceptance of whatever it was that had upset her.

Grandfather Aegon had swooped her up, set her on his knee, and raised his old, hairy eyebrows at her decision. He asked her why she had changed her attitude. Rhaella told him, doing her best to be as regal about it as she could. She was a princess, not a stuffy child, after all.

Grandfather had thrown his head back with a laugh. Rhaella had frowned stubbornly, not aware of what was so funny. In response, Grandfather pointed her face softly and chortled.

"Sometimes, my dear girl," he told her, "you remind me of my father."

Rhaella had been stunned to hear that. She had never once thought herself like her late great-grandfather, the stern, harsh, and energetic King Maekar. "What do you mean?" she had asked.

A sad, wistful smile had spread across Grandfather's face then, the sort that always did when he brought up old family members he had lost. "My father was a strong, stalwart man with an unshakeable sense of duty. Sometimes I see those same traits in you. I certainly see his disapproval in many of your pouts, sweetling," he had added, poking the edge of her lips with his wrinkled finger.

Rhaella had pursed her lips, unsure of what to make of that.

Grandfather had soon set her off his knee and declared he must return to his work. She didn't remember much else of their conversation, only that he was glad she had turned around, and reminded her that they all had vital duties they wished they didn't. It had had ended there, and Rhaella had left his solar.

Over the years, she had off and on pondered the comparison her grandfather had made. Whenever there had been something minor she had not liked, when politics did not go her way, when she and Aerys had been forced to wed, the increasing pressure to produce a spare for her son, and the growing abuses and negligence of Aerys as he slipped into paranoia and violent insanity.

As a child, she had grown to enjoy the comparison. She might have been a girl who would never face battle as King Maekar had, but she was intelligent, diligent, and fiercely loyal to her House. Rhaella loved her family, even after her marriage and difficult first pregnancy, and withstood all the turmoil and humiliation thrown her way. She was strong, too. She was stalwart, too. Her sense of duty was unshakeable as well.

It was only well into her adult years that Rhaella began to have her doubts. As she closed her eyes to what she could not control, as she suffered through the trauma of Aerys' temper and indulgences, and fretted and grieved when her son, gooddaughter, grandchildren, and her family's throne were all lost. She doubted very much that her grandfather had been right. She was no King Maekar. King Maekar would never have closed his eyes, suffered, or stood powerless from the sidelines as it went wrong. Not as she had.

But now it was different. Now Aerys was gone. Aunt Rhaelle's spawn was coming for her and her remaining children's heads as the storm raged above Dragonstone. Her body had labored and her body was fading fast. It was different now, Rhaella realized. She was a queen, a Targaryen, and she knew her duties and her family and House's rights. She would not wilt any longer.

On exhausted, pained legs she crowned her younger son king. With forcefully clear words, she named her daughter Daenerys in the hopes the Martells would remember their ties with the Targaryens. And with her remaining willpower, she saw to the preparations that would see her children off to Essos, despite Viserys' pleas and Daenerys' cries.

In the end, even with all else lost, Rhaella knew her duties, and she was strong and stalwart in them.

Perhaps she was like Great-Grandfather Maekar in some ways after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Rhaella barely has a personality in canon, but I'm fond of this headcanon I've had for a while that she gets her dedication to duty from Maekar, who, for all his grumpiness and marching off to Summerhall to sulk when he couldn't be his brother's Hand, seemed to be a hard-working, dutiful king when he took the crown himself.


End file.
